Gypsy Rising

Shera shouts for Marta, who shouldn’t even fucking be here, and a stream of foreign noises cuts Arion off, because we all stop to listen to the growing chaos. We all head out into the hallway, finding the noise more of nervous pandemonium instead of tireless hammering.

Usually we have the door shut for a reason. It’s always fucking loud here.

Bloody hell. I really have been a glorified prick. I really wish at least one of us knew how to stay out of trouble.

But romance is my fucking department. I’ll kiss her ass until she feels awful for being cold to me, and then she’s going to be so thoroughly mine she’ll never try to escape me again.

“She’ll be angry—possibly hostile—for a little while, but if we bother her enough, she’ll start growing weak, and then wishy-washy, and at last, she’ll be ours again,” Arion states with too much confidence.

“Do not say that to her, or she’ll go out of her way to prove you wrong. And honestly, I hope you’re right,” Vance says, pointing a finger at Arion as if in warning. “Make her stubborn just because you don’t know how to keep your arrogant mouth shut, and I’ll stab you.”

“If she’d stop me from messing up this bad before it escalates to the part where her soft little top blows, that’d be fucking helpful,” I dutifully point out.

“Our last serious relationship with a woman we all cared enough about to share…had disputes that were more along the lines of, “You killed fifteen of my people, so I took thirty of yours. Care to try to level the score, Emit? Or do I win this one?” Emit states, his tone almost lifeless. “How did I get in trouble? I deliberately didn’t reignite our flames, because I knew this would be a distraction, and I wanted to wait until I could devote all my attention to Violet.”

“Don’t say stuff like that aloud,” Arion tells him, cringing and shaking his head. “That even sounds bad to me, and she’s clearly a little sensitive right now.”

“I was worried when the age-gap was going to become an issue,” Vance states on a tired breath. “Centuries of being monsters…versus her twenty-six-years of being mostly human.”

“No wonder we stay in trouble,” I grumble, still confused about all the fuss going on below.

Violet’s a daily reminder of how much better life has truly been. I only thought I remembered all the disgusted, sickened feelings that accommodate that woman’s mere presence.

“I was a midwife for two decades!” Lemon shouts as she hops from the second floor, chasing after the stretcher that crashes through a set of doors that lead into…I’m not sure what.

I glance around, noticing there’s a lot more work done than I realized this morning when I passed through. I mean…that was this morning when I looked around, right?

“That’s our fucking shifter,” Arion says, throwing his hand up at Vance. “Violet’s painting herself a fucking target, and this is a cry for help. That’s why she broke up with us. Now it’s just too obvious not to see.”

My eyes go back down, as Shera walks out. Her gaze quickly darts to Violet’s slightly reddened eyes. Just those barely flushed cheeks and teary eyes have me immediately moving toward her. Shera’s eyes widen in a spontaneous deflation sort of way…like a balloon that just sprung a leak, as she darts a panicked look toward Arion.

Arion’s eyes narrow, but before he can stalk toward her, Marta Portocale is there, her red cloak becoming visible as the hood falls off her head.

Arion’s throat gets scissored between her two blades, and he resists the urge to rip her head off.

Good dog.

“Oh my damn, Violet!” an oddly familiar voice shouts. “The cloak does turn you invisible! You just suck at being a good gypsy! Now that’s the way to be a proper badass.”

I dart a gaze around, finding only Violet for a second, and too many Simpletons rushing around with blankets, towels, and various other things.

“I still hate your mom, though,” the familiar voice adds in mock hesitation.

“Careful, Vampyre. I’m helping you out for once. You don’t even get to yell at that beta, because you can’t punish her in anyway unless you go through Violet with the same punishment first. You signed over that right,” Marta says as she withdraws from her own slight distraction the impossible voice brings.

“What?” we all ask in unison, and damn near the same tone.

I forget all about the enigmatic voice that is niggling at my mind worse than an unfinished song with just one bar of melody.

“Was Violet manipulated into manipulating us into signing something so ludicrous?” I ask, glancing a suspicious look directly into her eyes.

Clearly that’s what’s happened.

“She told you to read the shit you were signing,” she points out with a small I-can’t-believe-I’m-having-this-conversation sigh. “Shera, Avery, the omegas…all of them are under Violet’s representation. You’ve all signed over your punishment rights to those individuals, and Violet is to be held personally responsible for them as long as she sees it productive.”

“What the fucking hell does that even mean?” I ask her very seriously…as a baby cries somewhere in the distance.

“Ahhhhhh! Ahhhh!” Bobo shouts as he comes racing through like he’s been traumatized, seconds before that baby cries again.